The bra was hanging loosely over the back of the sofa. One cup was inverted, the other contained a damp sock, which Ailsa reached down and plucked out, stretching it out from its tangled knot like dough and tossing it onto her clothes horse. She left the bra though. It was green and traced with a lacery of black thread, like a butterfly’s wings. The cups were vaguely translucent, and I believed if she were wearing it, it wouldn’t leave much to the imagination.
“Nice bra,” I said, picking it up between two fingers as I reclined on the couch. Guess not everyone always knows the perfect thing to say, like me.
“Thanks,” she shouted from the kitchen. Her voice was only a little raised, and still chimed musically. I ran my fingers over the silky material a little more than I needed to as I hung it up to dry alongside the sock. Next to it was a faded grey T-shirt emblazoned with a decaying transfer of her favourite Animal Crossing character, Mr. Resetti. “Simon never once noticed me in it.”